


Rosebuds

by ohfreckle



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Cock Stuffing, Dubious Consent, M/M, Sounding, will graham's tears
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-25
Updated: 2014-01-25
Packaged: 2018-01-10 00:11:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,330
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1152488
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohfreckle/pseuds/ohfreckle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hannibal breathes him in, in that curious way he has, draws a shuddering breath through his nose as if he can smell Will's uneasiness; holds Will's soft flesh like it's something precious, something to be savored.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rosebuds

**Author's Note:**

> Another late gift ficlet, this time for lensherr-xavier, who requested 'hannibal/will dubcon sounding; will’s in one of his moods and doesn’t know if okay or not, thereof dubcon.'
> 
> I'm sorry, Will, but you're just too beautiful in your suffering.

The sound is light and pure, reverberating through the air with a tinkle. 

If Will could concentrate hard enough, the chilly ring would almost soothe the burn that’s eating him up from inside. But he can’t, hasn’t been able to slow his thoughts for days, scourged by the fever his body can’t seem to shake. 

Will is restless, shivers despite the heat of Hannibal’s chest against his bare back. 

“Will! Relax!” And where the soft tone of steel on steel failed, the sharp cut of Hannibal’s vowels manages easily, rasps over the frayed ends of Will’s nerves and chips away his troubles. 

Very carefully Hannibal places one of the two steel rods in his hand back into their velvet-lined box. He keeps the thinner one, a long wand that widens slightly at the end, thickening into a delicate bud. It looks small and innocent between Hannibal’s strong fingers, but the thought of taking it into his body makes Will tremble like a leaf. Will clings to Hannibal like that leaf would cleave to its branch, his hands clawing into Hannibal’s knees where they’re bracketing his own. 

“Are you sure–” God, he can’t even say it; blinks away what might be sweat or tears or both. 

“Do you not trust me?” Hannibal murmurs against Will’s temple, his lips brushing over Will’s damp skin. 

Will watches the slow glide of steel over the length of his cock, breathless and wide-eyed, the ticklish sensation following several split seconds later; like he’s out of his skin, watching it happen to somebody else entirely. 

Will nods his head jerkily, once. He’s distantly aware that this isn’t what he meant to say, the No still on the tip of his tongue, but it slips from his mind at the first touch of Hannibal’s hand on his cock. 

Will shudders into the warm cradle of Hannibal’s fingers with a sob. His cock is still soft, his body unable to catch up with his brain, but his stomach clenches into a knot of arousal at the images that are flooding his mind: Hannibal’s cock heavy on his tongue, filling him in lush spurts, sweet and coppery without a hint of bitterness. 

“Shhhh, my darling Will,” Hannibal shushes him. He brushes sweaty curls from Will’s brow, like he’s a frightened child in need of soothing. Hannibal breathes him in, in that curious way he has, draws a shuddering breath through his nose as if he can smell Will’s uneasiness; holds Will’s soft flesh like it’s something precious, something to be savored. 

“Please…” Will doesn’t know what he’s asking for, but Hannibal promised. Promised that he would make everything that torments him go away, at least for a little while. 

Hannibal’s familiar hands on his body ground Will in a way he never thought possible. It’s the only thing that keeps him from bolting, makes him watch Hannibal coat the– what was it again? Will can’t remember. 

He wracks his brain frantically, tries to remember Hannibal’s explanation, clipped and precise as always. _Nothing to be afraid of, only pleasure lies here for you. A simple medical device, a urethra sound._

Will clings to it, comforted by the realization that he can still remember the conversation, that maybe he isn’t completely mad yet. It helps him to follow Hannibal’s order of “Come now, Will, relax,” and suddenly it’s easy to let the tension seep from his body and sink back into the comfort of Hannibal’s body. 

The single drop of lube against his slit feels good; wet, a little ticklish, and then Hannibal feeds the bud of the sound into the small opening, his elegant hands so very careful, always mindful not to hurt Will unless he’s asking him to. 

It feels– Will can’t think of a better word than strange. It’s tight and burns a little, not unlike the head of Hannibal’s cock breaching him. A smaller hurt, but the feeling of being taken is no less intense. 

“Is this all right, Will?” Hannibal’s cheek is smooth where he rubs it slowly against Will’s bristly one. 

Will can’t tell, can’t decide if the feeling of fullness is good or not, but the affection in the gesture makes him lean into Hannibal’s touch and nod his head before his mind even registers his consent. 

“Yes,” he croaks out, wetting his dry lips with a quick swipe of his tongue. The burn goes deeper, scant millimeters every time Hannibal slips in more of the thin piece of metal. 

Will hears a small sound of distress when Hannibal pulls the sound out to apply more lube, and he only realizes it’s his own when he can’t stop his hips from pushing up, his body already missing the strange presence within. 

“You have to stay still, darling boy,” Hannibal chides gently. He squeezes Will’s knees with his own in warning. “I have no wish to hurt you.” 

He pushes the rod in again, a little quicker than before. It feels different this time. Will’s cock isn’t soft anymore, almost half-hard, unable to not respond to Hannibal’s touch. It’s a tighter fit, but the sound sinks easily into him with the added slickness, pulled deeper into Will’s cock by gravity alone, completely unaided. 

Hannibal seems to sense the change in Will’s body, holds him still with a firm hand on his belly. Will is glad for it because he knows he wouldn’t manage on his own. He feels like doubling over, suddenly overwhelmed with the feeling of having something _in his cock_. 

It’s unlike anything Will has ever experienced. Pleasure, pain, so much pleasure– he can _feel_ the thickened end carving its way into him, pushing against the sensitive nerves inside when Hannibal gently squeezes his hand around him. God, it’s like being milked from the inside and it’s a different burn now, drags him inside out, his cock swelling around the intrusion, welcoming it into his body. 

“More, god, please, _more,_ ,” Will sobs. He’s shaking, his stomach trembling under Hannibal’s hand. Too much, not enough. He feels like he’s on the edge of coming already, pressure in his cock and in his balls and he–

The hand on his stomach is gone, the only warning Will gets. He wails when Hannibal pulls the thin rod out, a quick harsh burn before he pushes it in again. It’s a high needy sound Will doesn’t even recognize as his own, feels as foreign as the thin piece of metal inside of him. 

Hannibal is fucking him steadily with the sound now. Will pushes his hips into the slick grip of his fingers, watches hungrily as the thin rod disappears into his slit, clear drops of precome spilling out every time it comes out and pushes in again. He’s owned, _had_ , and he’s so close, can feel his orgasm like a tight fist in his belly, right above his cock. 

“I could fuck you, right now, with this inside you, and you’d take it and beg for more,” Hannibal rasps, brushing a kiss against Will’s cheek. He slides the sound out and squeezes hard around Will’s cock, his wet fist a tight circle that draws Will’s orgasm from him like he owns it. 

The tight coil of pleasure inside of Will explodes so suddenly his whole body locks with it and he comes with a shuddering sob, his cock streaming against his belly and over Hannibal’s fingers. Every squeeze teases another shudder from him, draws another weak spurt of come from him until he aches with it. Will feels tears wetting his cheeks, the softness of Hannibal’s tongue lapping at them with a steady murmur of _mine, mine, mine_. 

_*_    
Will wakes with a gasp. He immediately recognizes the grey ceiling, the lumpy mattress under his back, the dim lighting that illuminates his cell even at night. 

He takes a shuddering breath and slides a hand in his boxers, cradles his limp cock, stripping away the wetness. 

He doesn’t touch the wetness on his cheeks. 

Nothing has changed. 

**Author's Note:**

> Any and all feedback is much appreciated! For updates, snippets and whinings on my fics, feel free to add me on [tumblr](http://ohfreckle.tumblr.com/) or [Twitter](http://twitter.com/ohfreckle)


End file.
